The Sorting of Neville Longbottom
by CellarGangGirl
Summary: Neville's always known he's not the best wizard. What if he's kicked out of Hogwarts before school even starts? x Drabble fic x


Disclaimer: Of course I don't own it, and you all know that.

AN: So, this goes with that survey on my profile that I put up the other day. I was serious when i said Neville was my new obsession. Also, I'm entering it into canon for this fic that Neville's grandmother was in Ravenclaw. This is very drabble-y.

Neville Longbottom was terrified out of his wits. Oh, he didn't like this; he didn't like this one bit.

He stood silently, watching the students before him be sorted into the four houses of Hogwarts - none of which he thought he was suited to. What if he got up there and that wierd hat said that he didn't have any of the good qualities - what if he was kicked out of Hogwarts because he wasn't good enough? The way he figured it; he wasn't brave, cunning, smart, or 'unafraid of toil'. Gran would kill him if he ended up in Slytherin - she said it was the house for dark wizards. She had always said he better not end up in Hufflepuff, because they were a pathetic lot. Looking over at them, he thought they looked quite welcoming. His safest options were of course Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. However, again, he wasn't smart enough to be in Ravenclaw.

He stared back at the Gryffindors, their scarlet and gold colors shining brilliantly. He wished deeply that he was brave enough for them; to be part of the Gryffindors. His parents had been brave Gryffindors - Gran always said they had hearts of lions and he should be proud - they had stood up to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with their friends. Of course, he wished they'd never had to stand up to anyone, and then he could live with them instead of visiting them in St. Mungo's. Gran had always told him that someone would cure them, but he knew now that it would never happen. She'd told him the whole story just before sending him off to school. You couldn't cure people who'd been driven mad - madness wasn't a disease like others. He'd accepted now that it would never be changed.

He clapped as Hermione Granger, the girl who'd helped him look for Trevor on the train, was sorted into Gryffindor. She was very smart, so he was somewhat shocked that she wasn't sent off to Ravenclaw, but he envied her just the same.

He stood, petrified of what would happen, waiting his turn. Finally, Professor McGonagall called out his name, and he shakily made his way up to the stool. He tripped over his feet, but eventually made it up there, where he sat, fidgeting with the edge of his robes. The professor lowered the brown hat to his head.

"Aha..." Proclaimed the voice that had sung to them. Odd, because he hadn't heard it speak to anyone else. It'd only shouted houses. Neville tensed up, waiting for it to shout to the room full of witches and wizards that he didn't belong here. However, it said no such thing.

"I've been waiting for you. I remember sorting your parents. Brilliant Gryffindors, those two." Neville wondered at how to respond to this, but came up with nothing.

"It's quite alright. I'm a thinking cap, after all. I know what you're thinking, boy." It said with a lilt. Perhaps he wasn't the only one the cap had spoken to then...

"Quite right my boy. Now. The question is where to put you." The hat paused, seemingly to think. Neville could feel the sweat on the back of his neck, gathering to slide down his back under the suddenly-heated school robes.

"Hm... Hufflepuff, perhaps. But, you have the spark. Maybe..." It mumbled in his ear after a very long, quiet thirty seconds. It had just trailed off, and was no longer talking.

_'The spark? What's 'the spark'?'_ He thought, directing the question at the hat. It sighed.

"But is it best for you? How would you fare in there?" It seemed to be talking to itself, not even listening to Neville. The last question the hat had mumbled made a shiver of fear trail up Neville's spine. What did it mean? He hoped - no, prayed - that it wasn't talking about Slytherin. The hat barked a laugh and Neville nearly jumped in surprise.

"Slytherin? No boy, not at all... Hm, yes. I think so." It said mysteriously.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Followed soon after, and Neville sat, dumbfounded for a minute, before leaping up and running off towards the gold and scarlet in his joy. Of course, returning the hat to the stern-faced Professor McGonagall - who seemed to smile, in an odd way, at him - was embarrassing. However, he soon forgot that as he was greeted by the proud, brave Gryffindors, who clapped their hands and him and smacked him jovially on the back. Hermione Granger smiled at him as he took his seat at the table to finish watching the Sorting Ceremony.

AN: I absolutely loved that Neville ran off with the hat on in SS/PS! Cracks me up every time. Hope you enjoyed.

Be kind - Review. :)


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